


Grow, Grow, Grow

by Eclectic_Goddess



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)
Genre: Gen, Post-Movie, groot feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2145126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eclectic_Goddess/pseuds/Eclectic_Goddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Self-realization should be a shocking thing. Instead, it comes slowly and steadily. With each bud, each new leaf, each new bit of growth brings more with it, until…</p><p>Groot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grow, Grow, Grow

**Author's Note:**

> I said I wasn't going to write another Groot fic. It just happened. I swear I'm working on a real GotG story. The ending just went a little wonky, so I'm re-writing it.

 

The universe is simple. Water slips along broken cells to fill in the empty space, bringing nutrients. Cells divide and grow. A tiny bud of life.

 

There is sun, and air. More water. Growing is all that matters. Growing is urgent. Grow, grow, grow.

 

Self-realization should be a shocking thing. Instead, it comes slowly and steadily. With each bud, each new leaf, each new bit of growth brings more with it, until…

 

 _Groot_.

 

It’s the first thought. Slow, and uncertain, but it is there. Something more than just growing. A reason for growing.

 

After that, the air is more than the air. The water has meaning. The sun comes because it is for him.

 

Grow, grow, grow.

 

_I am Groot._

 

He is growing for a reason. He has purpose. It is a new idea, and an old one. When he grows enough, he will understand.

 

More water. He loves the water. He loves that the water is for him. He doesn’t understand. He will.

 

_I am Groot._

 

There is more to it than that. Groot is what he is. But there is more. There are things not him. Things that are not air, or water, or sunlight. He wants to know them, to remember knowing them, so he grows.

 

His buds grow into branches. His branches grow buds of their own. He reaches out in every direction he can. Time is a thing. He has plenty of it, but he is impatient.

 

_I am Groot._

 

His sense of touch was never good, but he can taste. The air changes. The water changes. He wants to understand those changes, and must find other ways to sense them. He must grow other ways. He remembers how.

 

One day, Groot opens his eyes. It is confusing, but familiar. There are shapes that move. Close to him and far away. He knows some of these shapes. They make him happy. He is remembering, with each new tendril and leaf.

 

Hearing comes next. Like everything, it comes slowly. He senses the vibrations, then hears them, then he is able to separate them into sounds. Some are loud and some are soft. He loves them all.

 

_I am Groot._

 

Grow, grow, grow.

 

Tendrils now can touch, can reach out and grasp. A familiar shape is often there. Small dark face with sharp little teeth. He remembers these things. Dark. Sharp. Teeth. Small. He is small now. The face goes sometimes, but it always comes back. He learns the sounds of it. He will know them again.

 

These shapes are people. They are all different, but they are all the same. Groot is the same, too. Different, but the same. He is with them, and they are with him. This is something special. He knows it, even if he doesn’t know why he knows it.

 

_I am Groot._

 

There are sounds that repeat. Groot likes them. He likes to stretch out his branches and move through the air. He can reach a little farther each day.

 

_I am Groot._

 

He learns the sound of his name.

 

“Groot,” the voice says. Voices are the sounds of the people. He doesn’t understand most of it, but he feels a thrill when he knows it is for him. “Groot,” they say, because he is with them.

 

He is remembering things. He knows that something came before the water and the air and the sun. Many somethings. Some of them were good. Some of them were not good. He doesn’t think much about those not good things. They don’t seem to matter. Now it is all just good things.

 

He has people and voices. They look at him and see him. They watch him grow. He is growing for them, too.

 

There is so much. Groot spreads his branches and opens his eyes and listens and tries to take it all in. There is water and air and sun and Rocket. He knows Rocket. He remembers Rocket, and the shine of his eyes, and the feeling of quick, clever paws against his bark. There is more to learn, but he knows there is more, and he is happy to learn it.

 

“I am Groot,” he says one day. No one is there to hear it, but that is not bad. He has time.

 

Grow, grow, grow.


End file.
